Trust
by AdGe
Summary: Draco never truely trusted anyone in his life, but he finds trust in the most unlikely person.


**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but the storyline. I'm not making money off of this and I'm poor so it would be pointless to sue me.**

_Authors Note: This is just something I came up with when I was bored and was supposed to be writting the next chapter to Unexpected Death Eaters. (By the way to the readers of UDE, don't kill me for not updating yet.) I've had this Trust story written for a while and I've decided to post what I have for now. I know where I'm going with this, but don't know at the same time. So if you find it interesting, just bear with me._

* * *

Trust. It wasn't something that Draco had in anyone but himself. Every one he knew he had one reason or another not to trust them. Even Crabbe and Goyle, as ignorant as they may seem, couldn't always be trusted. Sometimes the people you label as being stupid, are actually the smartest ones because they will always be the last suspected.

Draco had learned at a very young age that he couldn't trust anybody. It started with all the empty promises he had retrieved from his father. Yes, he had gotten just about everything he wanted as a child, but it wasn't presents he was promised with and then denied. No, it was Lucius.

When he was a little boy, he had admired his father greatly. So greatly in fact, that he felt happiest when in the presence of his father. It didn't take long for Draco to realize that his father did not share this same joy. Lucius had his own agenda, one that did not include Draco. Even though Lucius knew Draco did not fit into his schedule, he would make plans with him anyways. Every time this happened, Draco was filled with false hope and then let down once again as he watched his father walk out the door.

You would think that Draco would turn to his mother after this realization, but he knew better than that. Narcissa was a distant mother, but the distance between her and her son wasn't intentional. She was a social butterfly. She was the type of mother that was involved in almost every organization. If she wasn't at a meeting, she was out with "the girls"; which was comprised of the Parkinson, Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle wives.

It may sound like Draco led a lonely childhood, but he didn't; there were many times his parents were there. When they weren't, he would find other ways to entertain himself. He would play with the other pureblood children, such as Blaise or Pansy; or if he wanted to be alone he would read the books in the family library. Sometimes he would even terrorize the house elves, which he later found was his favorite pass time.

The reason Draco had such a distant relationship with his parents was because they were too busy with their own lives. Some think it was because they didn't love him. They did love him; he was their child after all. The Malfoys aren't as cold-hearted as people would like to think they are. No, they just aren't the type of people who show their feelings outwardly. It is not because they think that if you wear your feelings on your sleeve it will make you vulnerable. It is because they really don't know how to express themselves unless the emotion is anger or hate. Unfortunately, anger and hate were the two emotions the Malfoys knew all too well.

Speaking of hate, one of the things Draco hated was sitting right across the table from him. He had the unfortunate luck of being paired up with _it_ for an Arithmancy project. By _it_ he meant Mudblood, which wasn't even worthy enough to have such a name. To make matters worse, it wasn't just any Mudblood, it was Granger.

Draco watched as Hermione took down notes from _Numerology and Grammatica_, with a furrowed browed. The tangled bush on her head, which she considered to be her hair, was flowing onto the desk. It was brown. Brown like dirt, this was exactly what she was. Her eyes, which were concentrating on the book, were a deep shade of brown, a deep brown like mud. Just by looking at her you could see the filth she resembled of the Wizarding world; a Mudblood.

Draco looked over to the wall of the library where a mirror hung. He stared at his reflection from where he sat. His hair was blonde. So blonde in fact that it was almost white. White was always a sign of cleanliness, which was exactly what he was. His eyes were a light blue, almost like crystal clear water. Another sign of the purity he resembled of the Wizarding world; a Pureblood.

"Are you going to do your share of the work, or am I going to have to do this whole project myself?"

Draco kept his gaze on the mirror a moment longer before slowly turning it to meet Hermione's. She was glaring at him with pursed lips, taping the sharp end her quill on the table impatiently as she waited for his answer.

"Now there's an idea, Granger." Draco paused as leaned forward onto the table, resting his elbows on its surface. "A Mudblood working for a Pureblood, the way it should be."

Hermione's eyes darkened and her glare intensified. She abruptly stood up from her chair and chucked the quill at Draco as hard as she could. Draco barely missed the flying object as it whizzed past his head. Standing up from his own chair, he glared at the fuming witch on the other end of the table.

"I would say that wasn't very lady like, but considering what you are, that crude behavior isn't that surprising."

This visibly made Hermione even angrier. She then grabbed _Numerology and Grammatica_ and hurled it in Draco's direction. Draco caught the book and set it down on the table.

"Ever since we got stuck together with this project, the only thing I have heard out of your mouth is snide remarks, not that that is anything new. Call me crazy, but I thought we would be able to put our differences aside so we could complete this." Hermione waved her hand in the direction of the table, where notes lay scattered across it. "But you have made it bloody impossible to do so. Is it that hard for you to act civil towards me for the few hours we need to finish this? And if not civil, at least keep your mouth shut unless you have a question about the assignment? Obviously it is."

She picked up her bag and flung it over her shoulder. "I've put up with your shit for far too long, Malfoy. You can go ahead and finish this damn project with out me." Hermione picked her notes and extra parchment and roughly shoved them into her bag. She walked over to Draco to retrieve her book and tucked it under her left arm. Before she left his side, she looked him directly in the eye before sending a swift slap across the left side of his face with her hand.

Draco reached out and tightly gripped her arm before she was out of reach. He violently spun her around to face him.

"Do you think you can just slap _me_ and then walk away?" he said in a low, dangerous tone. Draco's hand tightened around Hermione's arm and he saw her visibly wince at the pain. She was trying to glare at him, but fear was evident in her eyes.

"This isn't third year anymore, Granger." Draco let go of Hermione with a small shove, which made her take a step back so she could keep her balance. "There will be consequences for your actions now." Draco sat back down in his chair and opened up his book to take notes.

As if remembering her Gryffindor courage, Hermione finally spoke. "What could _you_ possibly do to me?" Her voice reeked of arrogance.

Draco turned around in his chair to face the witch. "You think just because you make the highest marks in the school, and wear that HeadGirl badge makes you untouchable? Wake up, Granger. No one is untouchable." Draco noticed that this statement slightly unnerved Hermione, so he continued.

"Third year you hit me and I didn't do anything about it. Don't expect me to be that generous this time around. I would advise you to watch your back, Granger."

Draco decided that the conversation was over and turned back to his book. He could feel Hermione still standing there, as if she was glued to the spot, thinking about what he just said. A minute or two later he heard her start to walk off.

"Oh, and Granger," Draco calmly said, not looking up from his book. He heard Hermione's footsteps stop and he took that as a sign to go on. "I'll give you a chance to change your mind about leaving the whole project to myself. If you do, I am willing to forget about your little…tantrum. You can sleep on it."

Draco would never admit it, but he couldn't do this project alone. Not because it was hard. No, because between quidditch, Headboy duties, and balancing out his work from other classes, he didn't have time to do a project of this magnitude on his own.

Draco heard the library doors slam shut. He knew Hermione would come back. Her grade in the class, as high as it was, still depended on this project. Sure, she could not do it and do extra credit assignments all year and still pass, but he didn't think she was up for that amount of work. If she was, then she sure as hell would pay, not only for hitting him, but for the lack of sleep he would lose doing this project.

* * *

Potions; Draco's favorite class. Not only because he actually enjoyed the art of potions, but he would get to watch Snape terrorize the Gryffindors. Draco always wondered if Snape treated Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff that way as well.

Ravenclaws were intelligent, so they wouldn't ask annoying questions and misread the ingredients. Hufflepuffs were hard-working, so they are the type who pays close attention to directions. Draco couldn't see how any of these qualities would annoy the potions master, so maybe he wasn't as hard on them. Slytherins; there was no need for explanation there; it was Snape's house. The only way he would even remark on one of his students was if they really stepped out of line or royally messed up on one of their potions. Then you have the Gryffindors. All guts but no brains, except for a select few. All their qualities seemed to shine in other areas, ones that did not include education. Not only did they tend to make many mistakes while brewing, but they always tried to stand up to Snape whenever they think something is unfair. Which showed another sign of their ignorance; life isn't fair, so get over it. Draco could definitely see why Snape treated him the way he did.

Draco's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the dungeon door flying open and hitting the wall with a loud 'bang!' He didn't need to turn around to know who that was. There was only one person who would enter a room like that, and that person was Snape.

He never did understand why Snape did decide to burst down the door to every room he entered. The only theory he could come up with was because he thought it seemed intimidating. It was when he was eleven, but now that he was seventeen, it just didn't have the same affect as it did then. So why keep doing it? This was where his theory became blurry.

"The other day we discussed the Youth Potion_._ I also assigned a two foot long essay on how it was used one hundred years ago and how it is used today. After I put the ingredients on the board, I want you all to place your essays on my desk while you're up to collect your ingredients. Any questions?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco could see Hermione's hand shoot into the air, where she waved it franticly.

Clearly ignoring the Gryffindor, Snape waved his wand towards the board, where the ingredients for the potion appeared. "Good, you may begin."

Noticing the crowd of students piling up near Snape's desk, Draco handed his paper to Crabbe.

"Turn mine in for me."

Not waiting for an answer from the other boy, Draco made his way to the almost totally empty ingredient closet.

"Malfoy," a voice rang out behind him.

Draco turned around to see Hermione behind him.

"What?"

"I changed my mind, I'll still help with the project," Hermione paused, "but that's only if you start doing your share of the work," she added as an afterthought.

Draco couldn't stop the smirk that was growing on his face. He knew she would come back and it only took her a day. Funny how one little threat could put those oh-so courageous Gryffindors under your control. Well, at least this one as far as he could tell.

"Sure, Granger. Meet me in the library after dinner tonight."

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking me to meet you in the library, or telling me?" She obviously didn't the idea of being ordered around, especially when it was Draco doing the ordering.

"Would it make a difference? You would still show up either way," Draco sneered as he walked past her to return to his desk.

Nothing extraordinary happened in Potions that day. There was the usual chatter of students, along with the usual bang of Neville's cauldron. Would that kid ever learn how to brew a proper potion?

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_Authors Note: Well, thats that for now, I'll probably work on it off it on but it isn't on the top of my 'To Do List'. Its going to be D/Hr, but I'm not going to make it a love story. It just involves the two of them. I suck with the whole love story thing, so sorry to D/Hr shippers._


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